Among our misfortunes was the loss of the bundle prepared by the
duchess, and with it, alas! St. Martin's tooth. Max was so deeply
troubled by the loss of the tooth that I could not help laughing.

"Karl, I am surprised that you laugh at the loss of my mother's sacred
relic," said Max, sorrowfully.

I continued to laugh, and said: "We may get another tooth from the first
barber we meet. It will answer all the purposes of the one you
have lost."

"Truly, Karl?"

"Truly," I answered. "The tooth was a humbug."

"I have long thought as much," said Max, "but I valued it because my
mother loved it."

"A good reason, Max," I replied, and the tooth was never afterward
mentioned.

From Ulm we guarded a caravan to Cannstadt. From that city we hoped to
go to Strasburg, and thence through Lorraine to Burgundy, but we found
no caravan bound in that direction. Our sojourn at Cannstadt exhausted
the money we got for our journeys from Augsburg and Ulm, and we were
compelled, much against our will, to accept an offer of service with one
Master Franz, a silk merchant of Basel, who was about to journey
homeward. His caravan would pass through the Black Forest; perhaps the
most dangerous country in Europe for travellers.